


It's Time To Live

by Thraceadams



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sheriff Knows Everything, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thraceadams/pseuds/Thraceadams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was really just supposed to be a five times Derek catches Stiles in funny/funky boxers and one time they got naked instead. Then Stiles had to start having feelings and remorse about Season 3b, Derek had to be zen and supportive, and Scott had to be "We're bros dude, I'll do anything for you." There's video gaming and Batman, movie marathoning and Avengers, lacrosse, locker rooms, and the Mets, sleepy Stiles searching for coffee and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Garfield eating lasagne and Stiles singing to Queen while cooking, and wow, REALLY never underestimate the Sheriff, because he really does know everything. Also, Derek rooming with Parrish and betting pools that the Sheriff wins. What's not to love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Time To Live

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightfog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfog/gifts).



> Thanks to **Aislinntlc** for the beta, all remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Thanks to **Aleja221** for the brainstorming!
> 
> Thanks to **Qafmaniac** for the AMAZING artwork - go give her some love [ on Dreamwidth HERE!](http://qafmaniac.dreamwidth.org/306757.html) OR [ on Livejournal Here](http://qafmaniac.livejournal.com/237371.html)
> 
> Click [ Here for the Soundtrack.](https://www.4shared.com/download/ED6cIBvWce/Its_Time_To_Live_Soundtrack.zip?lgfp=3000)
> 
> This is for the [TW Big Bang](http://twbigbang.livejournal.com/)
> 
> And finally, this is a very late bday/Christmas fic for nightfog - hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> EDITED: (Thanks to Bleep0Bleep for use of her disclaimer)
> 
> **This work is intended for the private enjoyment of the reader. I do not give permission to this work being shared with or read aloud by the press, or anyone working on said production of Teen Wolf, including but not limited to cast, crew, writers, or producers. I also do not give permission to share this work on third-party websites such as Goodreads, which I believe is a resource intended for published works outside of fandom.**

"Oh my God dude, I just totally wasted you!" Stiles yelled in triumph.

"Whatever. Let's go again," Scott replied good-naturedly, slapping a hand over Stiles' face and pushing him away.

They started up another round of Call of Duty, but Stiles was crashing hard. Too many nights spent up filling out college applications and researching whatever Derek or Scott had for him. They tried to keep him out of the action, something Stiles was actually on board with, especially after the whole last year with the Nogitsune and the Chupacabra.

He tossed his controller on the floor in front of the television. "I'm done. Falling asleep while I'm shooting. I mean I almost shot you twice! By accident!"

"Okay, okay. Lemme go brush my teeth." Scott slapped at his thigh.

Stiles just smiled and shut the game down, tidying up the room, running the extra pizza box downstairs and making sure everything was locked up. His dad had the night shift, hence why Scott was spending the night. Stiles still didn't really feel comfortable sleeping alone.

When he got back into the room, Scott was already in bed, stealing half the covers, seeing as how he had rolled himself up like a burrito.

"That's just wrong man. Stealing a man's covers in his own bed."

"You snooze you lose," came Scott's gleeful sounding voice muffled by the covers.

"Asshole," Stiles muttered, crawling in beside him and searching for the edge he knew he would find eventually. When he did, he gave it a vicious yank, unrolling Scott and sending him tumbling to the floor with a squawk of protest that just made Stiles laugh.

"You snooze you lose," he crowed triumphantly.

"Whatever," Scott groused, "Shove over."

After several minutes of pushing and pulling, kicking and grabbing, the two of them finally settled comfortably in the bed.

"Scott?"

"Yeah, Stiles?"

"Thanks."

Scott just bumped his shoulder and turned on his side. Stiles stared at the ceiling until his eyes were too heavy to stay open and he dropped off to sleep.

_"Stiles!"_

Stiles frowned in his sleep.

_"Stiles!"_

He shifted on the bed and screwed his face up even more.

_"Stiles!"_

"What?!" he sat bolt upright in the bed, suddenly very awake. Frantically, he looked around the room, eyes narrowing when he noticed the curtains blowing softly in the night breeze.

"Scott," he whispered, nudging his friend.

He would swear on his PS4 that he closed that window before they went to sleep.

"Scott!" he kicked Scott in the leg.

"Go 'sleep, Stiles," Scott muttered, shifting in the bed.

But Stiles couldn't. He flung the covers off and got out of the bed, grabbing the Rowan Wood bat Lydia had given him as a 'welcome back to reality' gift. He gripped it tightly, his hands flexing around it as he moved toward the door.

When his hand was on the knob, he stopped, Lydia's voice echoing through his head. _"Don't let them in, Stiles."_

"Scott!" he whispered harshly again. "Come on Scott."

Stiles heard the panic rising in his voice as he backed away from the door, except that led to the window which was slowly being pushed up from the outside.

"Scott!" he shouted, terror filling his voice.

The window opened all the way, Scott fell out of bed, and Stiles flicked the light on, holding the bat threateningly toward –

"Derek?" Stiles asked. "What the hell are you doing climbing in my window? I mean, besides the obvious. You know, being the normal creeper you are, I thought we were past that."

Derek frowned and crossed his arms. "You were scared. I could hear your heart pounding from outside, smell the fear coming from the window. Obviously, I came to check and see if you were okay." He gave Stiles a once over, quirking his eyebrow up. "Are those Batman boxers?"

Scott managed to stand up and jumped in before Stiles could answer. "I told you I had it tonight. That we were playing Call of Duty and I was spending the night."

Stiles frowned and turned to Scott. "So, what, you were on babysitting duty tonight? Is that what this is? You two got your signals crossed as to who's turn it was to make sure I don't sleep my way to the dark side again?"

"No, Stiles, no, that's not it."

Stiles just quirked an eyebrow at him and watched as Scott's face fell. "Okay, yes, that was part of it, but not all of it. It's just, we've all been worried, okay? Derek, me, Lydia, Isaac, your dad, he says you're not sleeping, you know, because, and I –" he glanced at Derek, "We thought maybe if someone was with you, you'd feel safe enough to sleep. That's all."

"We weren't keeping an eye on you because we thought you were gonna turn evil again." Derek said softly, the tips of his ears going pink.

Stiles looked from one of them to the other. "Fine. I’m going back to bed. You two can fight amongst yourselves as to who's staying. And for the record?" he turned to Derek. "Yes, these are Batman boxers, they're one of my favorites. Er-Erica gave them to me," he finished quietly.

With that he climbed into the bed, turned the light off, and rolled onto his side facing away from both of them. He could hear them muttering back and forth and figured both sets of eyebrows were probably having a very animated conversation. The initial burst of anger he'd felt melted away to something warm when Scott climbed back into the bed behind him, and Derek dropped another blanket on top of him before climbing out the window.

Stiles shifted, crawling further under the covers and pressing up against Scott's back. A tiny pleased smile appeared on his face and he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Maybe things would be okay after all. Especially if Derek and Scott were looking after him.

*******

Stiles stood in the locker room; the rest of the team had already gone out for practice. He promised Scott he would be right there, but he just stood there in his boxers, staring off into space. Scott's phone went off in his locker and Stiles shook himself out of his stupor. For a brief second he didn't move, then he reached over and dug around in Scott's bag and pulled the phone out.

The caller id flashed _Kira_. His thumb hovered over the _answer call_ button, but when he heard the Coach's whistle outside, he tossed it back into Scott's bag and started shrugging into his pads. He really didn't want Coach coming in and yelling at him, or worse blowing the whistle in his face.

When he bent over to grab his uniform out of his bag the door to the locker room banged open, startling him. The sound he made was most definitely not a shriek and he totally didn't grab at his chest like a frightened maiden from some novel. But he did slam back into the locker in shock when Derek stalked over to him.

"Why aren't you out on the field?" he demanded angrily.

"And hello to you too, Derek. What are you doing here? Or just back to your normal stalkery self. You know this is the boys' locker room. The high school boys' locker room." Stiles huffed as he started pulling on his lacrosse shorts over his Mets boxer briefs.

"So, you're a Mets fan?" Derek asked, the tips of his ears pink as a red flush spread down his neck.

 _Weird,_ Stiles thought as he grabbed his jersey and tugged it on over his pads. "Yes. My mom was a Mets fan. I suppose you're a Yankees fan."

"No. Mets actually. Laura liked the Yankees. I liked the Mets just to piss her off."

Stiles' lips curled up into a smirk as he pulled on his socks. "Huh, so you do have a sense of humor."

"Never said I didn't."

"Whatever broody McSourpants. Come on, let's go." He stood up and headed for the door, his crosse over his shoulder. He stopped and looked over his shoulder when he realized Derek wasn't following him. "Coming? Or are you off duty now that you've found me and I'm okay?"

Derek frowned, stuffing his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders as he walked over to meet Stiles by the door. "I'm not on duty."

"Really. So Scott didn't use some special werewolf powers or, I don't know, send up some bat signal to tell you I was AWOL?"

He shoved the door open and made his way outside, Derek right beside him.

"No. There is no bat signal."

Stiles cast a side-eyed glance over at him.

"It's a wolf signal."

A surprise huff of laughter burst out of Stiles. "Oh my God, you DO have a sense of humor!" He fist-pumped the air and did an excited little hop. "I knew it!" He nudged Derek with his elbow. "You're just a big squishy marshmallow inside."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't worry, big guy, your secret's safe with me. So tell me more about this wolf signal? How do I go about using it? You know, in case I ever get into trouble?"

And instantly Stiles stopped in his tracks, hanging his head, shaking it at himself. Trouble. Of course he would get in trouble, he seemed to attract it like a magnet. It wasn't a question of if but when. Slowly he began to walk again. "Sorry, sorry, sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain and I really don't know what I'm saying. I just, forget I said anything, okay? Just forget it."

He took off running, leaving Derek behind.

"Stiles! Stiles!" Derek called after him.

But Stiles kept running. It was embarrassing enough that Derek had seen him in his damn boxers. Twice now. He really didn't want to discuss his penchant for trouble or how the last time it ended with Allison – Nope. Stiles wouldn't go there. He promised himself. He clenched and unclenched his fist, digging his nails into his palms. At least Derek hadn't made fun of the Mets. Stiles might have had to try to break his hand on Derek's face if he had done that. The Mets were sacred. Stiles didn't care how many times they lost. They were his mom's favorite team, so they were his favorite team. His dad bought him a new pair of Mets boxers every year. And damned if Stiles would let Derek Hale or anyone embarrass him into not wearing them.

"Stiles!" Scott called, waving him over. "You okay?" he asked when Stiles drew up next to him.

"Yeah." He looked quickly over his shoulder to see Derek shooting a glare in their direction. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Scott followed his gaze and his eyes narrowed. "Did Derek say something to you?"

The calm tone to Scott's voice belied the way his eyes flashed to red and back again. Stiles clapped him on the shoulder. "No, no, he was just checking up on me in the locker room. Um, you didn't, I don't know, you didn't send him in there did you?"

"What? No. NO. Stiles, we stopped doing that after the whole gaming night fiasco. Well, I mean, we stopped planning it. I think," he said, flicking his eyes over at Derek who had suddenly made himself scarce. "I think Derek still sits outside your house sometimes, listening. He worries about you. Feels like you, all of us really, are somehow his responsibility, even though he's not the Alpha anymore."

"If you even say it," Stiles warned and Scott laughed, bumping his shoulder into Stiles. The tension eased out of Stiles. "He does that? For real?"

"Yup."

"Does he do it for anyone else?"

Scott opened his mouth and closed it.

"Right. Nobody else was possessed by a Nogitsune. So just me then." His shoulders slumped.

"Stilinski! McCall! Get your butts over here and stop standing around chatting like a couple of girls!"

Stiles took off at a run before Scott could say anything else and that was that until the end of practice, when Scott cornered him as they were leaving the field to head to the locker room. "Stiles, it wasn't, he wasn't, I didn't –"

"Nah, man, it's okay. I get it. I get it. No sweat." He did get it really, didn't mean his feelings weren't hurt. "Look, I gotta go, um, I'll see you later, okay?" Stiles gave Scott a weak smile before darting into the locker room and grabbing his stuff.

Scott called after him several times, but Stiles ignored him, slamming his locker and making his way out the door. He sat in the Jeep for several minutes before finally starting up the engine and heading home, his thumb tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel.

The lights were off and his dad's squad car was gone. "Great," Stiles muttered. He got out of the Jeep and grabbed his bag and his crosse. He stood in the driveway for several minutes, just looking around, trying to see if he felt like he was being watched. "If you're out there, you might as well show yourself."

He said it quietly enough that he knew only one of the pack would hear him and when nobody materialized he went on into the house. Stiles dropped his bag inside the door, along with his crosse before going into the kitchen to find a snack. He dug around in the pantry, back behind the whole wheat crackers and organic cereal to unearth the bag of potato chips he had squirreled away. Snagging a Coke out of the fridge, he took the chips, his bag, and crosse up to his room, after a brief stop in the laundry room to drop off all his dirty stuff.

When he got to his room, the light on his desk was on. Sitting on top of his laptop he found a folded up grey cotton t-shirt. "Huh," he said, setting his bag and crosse down by his closet and walking over to the desk. There was a note on top. He set it aside and unfolded the shirt.

It smelled like Derek, even to his human nose, it smelled earthy, piney, and exactly like Derek. The shirt was well worn, the blue 'New York' fading in places and the cotton sleeves and hem worn around the edges. The shirt clutched in his hand, Stiles picked the note up.

_Stiles,_

_It's from my time in New York. One of my favorites. Laura despised it. Should go with your boxers._

_Derek_

_P.S. It's not because I think you're dangerous. I worry about YOU._

Stiles brought the shirt up to his nose, closed his eyes briefly and inhaled. He flicked off the light and went to the window and sure enough, off in the trees, he spotted a pair of blue eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Yo, Pop, what up?"

"Really Stiles?"

"Aw, come on Daddyo, I'm just trying to get down with the slang kids have these days."

"You in for the night?" his dad asked, blatantly ignoring Stiles' attempts at humor.

"Ugh, fine, be a sourDad. Yes, I'm in for the night, got my pizza, my snacks, my caffeine, and I'm settled in for a long marathon of Marvel movies. Thinking about starting with Iron Man."

"Sounds good. Call me if you need me, otherwise, I won't bother you, other then. You know –"

"Sending a squad car by every hour or so to make sure the house is still standing. I get it Dad. Thanks."

"I love you, Kid."

"Love you too, Dad."

Stiles ended the call and tossed his phone to the side, eager to start up the movies. He pressed play on his laptop and grabbed a slice of pizza and immersed himself in the Marvel Universe.

The movies played and Stiles lost complete track of time. He only stopped briefly a couple of times to get rid of trash, get a new drink, and hit the bathroom. And one other time to change into his Avengers boxers and a t-shirt. Otherwise, he spent the entire night watching movies, with no interruptions. It was blissful.

It had been a long time since he'd been able to do something like this, an evening to himself with nothing to worry about. Like since before Scott had been bitten. With the Nogitsune gone, Stiles did his best to stay out of trouble. That brush with dying and killing people had been more then enough for a lifetime.

He queued up The Avengers and hit play when he heard a knocking at his window. Frowning, he hit pause and set his laptop aside and walked over to look out.

"Stiles!"

"Shit!" Stiles jumped back when Derek suddenly appeared outside the window. "What the fuck, man?" He scrabbled at the lock, opening the window.

"Are you okay?" Derek demanded as he stepped over the sill and into the room.

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?" Stiles asked, going back over to his bed to sit down.

"Avengers this time?" Derek asked, stepping closer, shooting a distracted look down Stiles' body.

"Yes. Don't tell me, you hate the Avengers."

"No."

"So tell me, Derek, why are you here at –" Stiles looked over at the clock before returning his gaze to Derek and crossing his arms. "A little after two in the morning."

"You haven't answered your texts."

"Oh," Stiles grabbed his phone to see about ten texts from Scott and another ten or more from Derek. "What's going on?" he asked, standing up and reaching for his jeans.

Quick as a whip, Derek reached out and grabbed his wrist, stilling his movement. "Nothing. We were just worried because you didn't reply."

Right. Again with the worry. Stiles' shoulders slumped. "Just busy watching a Marvel movie marathon. No biggie. You shoulda called my dad, he could have told you what I was doing."

Derek must have sensed he had overstepped or said something wrong because his thumb caressed over the pulse point of Stiles' wrist. "You know we're not worried about that, right?"

"What, about me going all 'grrr' again? Yeah, sure, totally," he scoffed.

Derek's fingers tightened their hold on his wrist. "Lie. We're worried about you being okay, not about you being evil."

Feeling the heat rise in his face, Stiles tugged his wrist out of Derek's grasp and turned away. "Yeah, well, I am."

He felt Derek move closer, a shift in the heat at his back.

"You're afraid you're –"

"Gonna turn evil and kill everyone I love? Yup." Stiles replied bitterly. "Who wouldn't? It's why I do these movie marathons, so eventually I'll get tired enough to fall asleep. Otherwise…" his voice trailed off.

"Why didn't you say anything? To Scott. To Lydia. To –"

"You? Because you're all worried about me enough. After what I did? I'm not even sure I deserve the worry, let alone want to burden you with more."

"Well, now you're just being a martyr. And I should know, I founded that particular club. Try getting your whole family killed and then come talk to me about your guilt and your manpain."

"Jesus, Derek, sorry, I just –" he paused, sitting down heavily on his bed. "Allison's dead because of me. And yet Scott is still looking out for me. All the time." He looked up at Derek, his vision blurry with unshed tears. "How do I live with that?"

Derek sat down beside him. He folded his hands together, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked at the floor. "Do you remember when Peter and I came back from our little stint in South America?"

"Vaguely," Stiles mumbled. "Seemed kinda like you were avoiding me."

"Right," Derek said softly, rubbing his hands together. "Look, we were retrieving my Mom's claws."

"What?" Stiles asked in shock.

"If you have an Alpha's claws, you can use them to recover memories or get into people's minds, like Scott did with Lydia to get you out. Peter used them to get into my head."

He dropped his head again and when he looked back up, his eyes shimmered with tears. "I saw my Mom, Stiles. I saw her. She talked to me."

"You talked to your Mom?" Stiles ignored the tremor in his voice. He lifted a hand up and scrubbed it through his hair, clenching it into a fist when he noticed it trembling.

"Yeah, she uh, she told me she loved me. That I wasn't to blame for what happened. That I should live my life and stop trying to atone for a sin that was never mine to begin with." He glanced up, his thumb rubbing over the back of his hand. "I think she'd say the same to you."

Something inside Stiles broke at his words and a tear slipped down his cheek. Followed quickly by another and then another, until the only sounds in the room were his hitching breaths and the sniffling of his nose. When Derek dropped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a side hug, he turned and wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, burying his face in his skin.

The sobs came then, the guilt pouring out of him in tears and shakes. And Derek let him, Stiles clinging to him and sobbing until he was dried out and exhausted. Then Derek put him to bed, sitting in the chair at his desk until Stiles fell asleep.

When Stiles woke, the room was empty except for a folded black t-shirt on his desk. He picked it up, noting the slip of paper that drifted to the floor. The t-shirt had a picture of Black Widow on the front of it. Stiles bent over and picked up the paper, seeing Derek's familiar scrawl.

_Stiles,_

_The red in your ledger has been wiped clean, not that it needed to be in the first place._

_It's time to live._

_Derek_

Scott came to see Stiles the day after Derek left him the Black Widow t-shirt. He came up and sat down on the bed. Stiles sat at his desk, afraid to turn around, afraid to face his best friend.

"Stiles."

He stiffened at his name, at the reproach in Scott's voice.

"I wish," Scott started and stopped. "Why didn't you," he stopped again. "Derek's right. It was never your fault. None of it. And yes, including when we went out into the woods that night and I got bit by Peter. It was my choice to go with you. My choice. You didn't force me, Stiles. I can say no to you, you know?"

Stiles let out a snicker and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. He heard Scott stand up and move in behind him, felt the hand drop onto the back of his neck and squeeze. "Come on, I need to go buy a Christmas present for my mom. You were always better at that then me."

Stiles sniffed and wiped an errant tear off his cheek with his sleeve. He stood up and turned to Scott, who smiled before pulling him into a tight embrace. "I love you, man, you're my best friend. My brother. You always will be. Now come on, let's go shopping. Hey, maybe we can find you some funky new Christmas boxers! Those old ones you have are too ratty to keep wearing."

So Scott took him shopping. They bought stuff for everyone. Scott's mom, Stiles' dad, Lydia, Isaac, Chris – Stiles had a really hard time thinking of something for him, since they were all still mourning Allison. It took him a while to pick out something for Derek as well, but in the end they managed to get something for everyone and Stiles even got some new boxers, which he couldn't wait to try out, if only to see the look on his dad's face.

So Christmas morning, anxious to surprise his dad, he stumbled downstairs to brew coffee for both of them. They had to be at the McCall's house for presents and dinner later that afternoon. Melissa and Rafe had invited them and wasn't that an interesting turn of events. Although, Scott swore up and down his mom was definitely not getting back with his father.

Stiles blearily made his way into the kitchen, scratching at his belly as he practically sleepwalked to the cupboard where they kept the coffee. The bag was missing and Stiles stared into the cupboard as if by doing so he could make the bag reappear. Confused, he turned around to find coffee already in the pot and Derek Hale standing in his kitchen handing him a full mug.

"What? How? Derek?" Stiles blinked rapidly and looked around. "Um, where's my dad?"

"Rudolph boxers," Derek said flatly.

"Huh?" Stiles took a sip of the coffee, closing his eyes in pleasure and groaning. He drank the coffee until it was half gone before handing his mug back to Derek. "Might I have some more please?" He pouted, sticking out his lower lip and batting his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Derek huffed and got him a refill.

"So, where's my dad?" Stiles asked, his brain finally starting to wake up and come on board with the fact that his dad was gone and Derek was in his place. "Wait, you didn't body snatch him did you? Dad? Is that you? Did you two go all freaky Friday on me?"

"Idiot. He got a call he had to answer. Something at the station. Don't worry, it's not an emergency. They got him a surprise present. A new name plaque for his desk. He should be back in about an hour."

"Right. My dad just conveniently got a call to go into the station to see his shiny new name plate, the one Deputy Parrish replaced about a month after –" he paused and dropped his hands to his hips letting his head hang down. "After." Stiles took a deep breath, tried to use it to chase the defeat out of his voice. "What are you doing here?" Stiles narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

The tips of Derek's ears turned red and it surprised Stiles to see the flush spread down Derek's neck as well. "Um, your dad might have said something about pastry and some coffee? Maybe some bacon before heading over to Scott's? And he really did get a call, but said he would be back before we ate."

Stiles smirked. "Oh he did, did he?" He moved over to the refrigerator and opened it, pulling the pastry out. "You mean this?"

A slow grin appeared on Derek's face and his eyes lit up happily.

Stiles shook his head. "Okay, big guy, I need to turn the oven on, fry up the bacon –"

"Stiles?" Derek interrupted.

"Don't you think you should get dressed first?" Derek asked, looking down at Stiles' bare chest and Christmas boxers with raised eyebrows.

"What?" Stiles asked. "Oh shit," he muttered, his face turning red, and the heat of it extending down his chest.

He had completely forgotten about his boxers. His Christmas boxers. The ones he had worn to see his dad's expressions. The ones with Rudolph on the front, complete with a bright red nose, right over his dick.

"I'd hate to see you get splattered with bacon grease," Derek said.

Stiles shot Derek a glare for the amused tone of his voice. "You," he pointed at Derek. "You don't get to make fun. These are my fun Christmas boxers that Scotty and I picked out just to see my dad's reaction."

"And you got mine, instead."

Now Stiles definitely heard amusement in Derek's voice. "Yup," he said, popping the p. "And it was priceless. Wish I had a camera for the look on your face when I came downstairs."

"Ha," Derek huffed out a laugh. "You weren't even awake. Go upstairs and get dressed, I'm hungry. And take those ridiculous things off. I'm not going to have Rudolph sticking his nose in my food."

"Wha_! You! How! Oh my God!" Stiles spluttered, backing out of the kitchen as fast as possible, Derek's laughter following him all the way up the stairs.

Stiles licked his finger, tasting the sauce. ''Yum," he mused. He danced back over to check the cooling noodles. Then he darted back over to increase the volume of his iPod. He glanced around and a sly smile spread across his face. He grabbed a wooden spoon and using it as a microphone, started singing and dancing around the kitchen.

Queen blasted through the kitchen and Stiles stomped the floor and sang at the top of his lungs, wailing out "We Will, We Will, Rock You!" right along with Freddie.

Because he finally felt like it. Finally felt like he had conquered things. He caught a glimpse of himself in the shiny silver face of the toaster and for the first time, in a very long time, he liked what he saw. His skin had lost its grayish sallow pallor, the dark circles under his eyes were practically gone.

As he slid across the floor to get the cheese out of the fridge, he grinned at how his legs weren't wobbly anymore. They had filled back out just like the rest of him. "Huh, all those workouts with Derek and Scott must be working," he murmured before jumping back into the song.

He got the lasagna dish down and sprayed it with Pam, turning the oven on as well. As the song ended and morphed into "We Are the Champions" Stiles went right along with it, crooning the words as dramatically and loudly as he possibly could.

When he got to the chorus, he belted it out, closing his eyes, throwing his head back, the whole works and then he let Freddie take back over. He set the wooden spoon down on the counter right next to the iPod. "It's all yours, Freddie. Gotta get this lasagna in the oven. Hungry werewolves and policemen to feed and all that."

As his playlist went on, Stiles put the lasagna together, stopping every once in a while to dance around to the music, until he finally put the lasagna into the oven and set the timer. He almost broke out into song again when "Somebody to Love" came on except he turned around to see Derek standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a shocked and amused look on his face.

"Derek!" Stiles yelped. "Oh my God! What the hell are you doing here? It's –" he glanced over at the clock. "You're not supposed to be here for another hour or so. Wait," Stiles narrowed his eyes. "I know that look." He pointed his finger at Derek. "How long have you been standing there?" he demanded, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment.

"Wait, are you checking up on me? I thought you and Scott decided it wasn't necessary, even though both of you still do it and think I don't know. Which, by the way, thank you, and no I'm not being sarcastic. It's nice to feel looked after by someone other than my dad and not because you're afraid I'm going to get my evil on again but because you care. S'probably why I'm sleeping so much better. Well that and…" his voice trailed off.

"Stiles, take a breath."

Scowling at him, Stiles took several deliberate deep breaths in and out. "Happy? Now, wanna tell me what's going on?"

"I can't just come over early and hang?"

Stiles lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "Really? That's the best you can come up with?"

He hummed out a pleased sound when not only the tips of Derek's ears turned red, but his entire face and throat. "Thought so."

"Scott told me I should come over early."

"Scott."

"Said you might need help."

"Scott said I might need help making my Mom's lasagna, the lasagna I've been making since I was allowed to make stuff in the kitchen by myself."

Derek let out a growl and Stiles held back a laugh as his eyes flashed blue. He held up his hands. "Okay big guy, don't strain yourself. Feel free to hang, no words necessary, just –" he waved a hand at the kitchen table where he had the makings of a salad strewn over the top. "If you want to help, make the salad for me. That way I can focus on the garlic bread and the dessert."

They worked together quietly, with just Stiles' Queen playlist in the background until the salad was made, the garlic bread was ready for the oven, and the cannoli shells had all been stuffed, and put back into the fridge for later.

Stiles wiped his hands on a towel and turned to look at Derek, who was looking anywhere but at Stiles. Dismayed, Stiles looked down at himself, trying to see if there was something wrong. "What? Do I have stuff on me?" He turned around in a circle trying to see his back.

"Stiles," Derek said and Stiles stopped.

"You do realize you just spent the last hour making dinner in here with me, only wearing boxers with Garfield eating lasagna on them, right?"

"Wha-?" Stiles looked down at himself again and felt his own skin flush red again, from his forehead all the way down to the trail of hair that disappeared into his Garfield boxers. "Oh shit, um, I should, um, yeah," he darted out of the kitchen before anything else embarrassing could happen.

"You know that's like the fifth time I've caught you in boxers and nothing else?" Derek yelled up the stairs.

"Yeah, well if you weren't Mr. Stalky McCreeperpants maybe you wouldn't be catching me half-naked all the time," Stiles yelled back.

There was no comeback and Stiles fist punched the air. "Yes. Got him with that one."

"Nope," Derek said from the doorway, startling a yelp out of Stiles as he jerked his Mets t-shirt over his head.

"Holy – I'm getting you a bell!" Stiles pointed his finger at Derek.

Derek just rolled his eyes. "Shirt looks good on you," he lifted a shoulder toward Stiles.

"Thanks," Stiles gave him a smile, happy to see it returned and have it go all the way to Derek's eyes. That smile had been happening more and more lately and it always sent a warm rush of arousal and contentment flooding through Stiles. He knew Derek could smell it, his nostrils always flared and his smile grew. Every single time.

Stiles moved toward the door, clapping Derek on the shoulder. "Come on big guy, crowd's coming, we've got food to serve."

They jostled each other down the stairs, reaching the bottom just as the door opened and the pack spilled inside, laughing and joking with each other. And if Stiles made sure they sat next to each other and nudged Derek under the table with his knee just to make his ears turn red every time he smiled? Well, that was between them.

Beacon Hills was his town. The Stilinski's had lived there for years. So there were very few things the Sheriff didn't know. He knew Debra at the bakery slipped him donuts despite Stiles begging her not to. He knew Derek sometimes picked up shifts at the local garage working on cars and bikes because he enjoyed it. He knew Lon at the grocery store would give him the stink eye if he bought any of those Hungry Man frozen meals. He knew Kira loved Scott McCall probably as much as Allison had. He knew Melissa was never going to get back with Rafe, no matter how much Rafe might want it. And he knew that Derek Hale was dating his son. And had been since Stiles' eighteenth birthday. Possibly before, but he refused to even think about that.

The Sheriff sat in his cruiser down the street and across from the school, watching as seniors poured out the doors to head out to off campus lunch. He had been one of the parents to approve that change, long before Stiles had ever darkened the hallways. He watched Scott and Kira walk out holding hands beside Stiles and Lydia. That friendship had surprised him. Stiles had carried a torch for her for so long and she hadn't even known he existed.

And now she's a banshee, Scott's an Alpha and they're all in his pack. He sat up in his seat as a familiar Toyota SUV pulled up. Not as flashy as the Camaro, but still a bit of a standout seeing as how most of the students couldn't afford a brand new SUV. Scott nudged Stiles who ducked his head and scratched the side of his nose with his finger. Lydia leaned up and kissed him on the cheek and he kissed her forehead before jogging over to the passenger side of the Toyota. The Sheriff couldn't see, but from the long pause between Stiles getting in and the Toyota pulling out he suspected there might have been some kissing.

Slowly he pulled out and followed them all the way to his favorite diner. Of course they would go there. What surprised him was Scott and the others showing up only five minutes later and all of them sitting in the round booth in the corner.

The five of them joked and laughed and ate looking like any bunch of normal kids on any given day. Except the Sheriff saw Stiles steal fries from Derek's plate, watched Derek actually push the plate closer, and a blind man would have seen the extra touches the two of them shared throughout the meal.

They burst out of the doors laughing, Scott with his arm wrapped around Stiles' neck trapping him in a headlock. "Don't take too long getting back to school. I'm not covering for you in History. Plus, that new teacher, she's um…" The group went quiet, the silence awkward.

"But, you know, that's not going to happen again, you know, because you two…" Kira started, her voice trailing off. The Sheriff saw the rosy blush color her pretty features.

"Well, we all know it was the virgin sacrifices that made Ms. Blake so appealing to everyone. Hell, she even kissed my dad!" Stiles tried defusing the situation.

The Sheriff opened his mouth to protest and remembered that only Derek and Scott would be able to hear him. So he bit his tongue and promised himself to mention it to Stiles later.

Scott clapped Stiles on the back and he and the two girls headed off to Kira's car, while Stiles hopped back into the Toyota. Oh what he wouldn't give for werewolf hearing right about now.

He followed them back to the school. Derek got out when Stiles did and the two of them stood by the SUV, Stiles with his backpack on his shoulder and Derek with his arms crossed. Stiles rocked back and forth on his heels talking and then shifted the bag on his shoulder. He moved to go around Derek and into the school when Derek reached out, his hand stopping just inches from Stiles' shoulder. He must have called his name because Stiles turned and the hope in his eyes made the Sheriff's heart clench.

Derek said something and whatever it was made Stiles skin flush pink and a wide grin appear on his face. Then without even looking around Derek grabbed Stiles' elbow and pulled him close, murmuring into his ear and kissing the side of his head before giving Stiles a playful shove toward the school. The Sheriff recognized the mischievous grin on Stiles' face as he walked backward all the way to the bottom of the steps when Derek shouted at him to get into the school. Only then did Stiles turn and run up the steps, meeting up with Scott, Kira, and Lydia at the top.

When they disappeared into the darkness of the school the Sheriff looked back at Derek, not surprised to see him staring right back. He gave the Sheriff a little wave, hopped in his SUV and drove off. He slunk down into his seat dreading his return to the station because he just knew Deputy Parrish was going to tease him about spying on his son because somehow Parrish and Hale had not only become friends, but roommates. Seriously, this was his life.

*******

Stiles glared out the window as he watched his dad pull away. His dad thought he was being stealthy and it really made him question his dad's intelligence. He knew about werewolves. Did he really think he could follow Stiles to lunch and back without Scott or Derek knowing about it? Stiles shook his head and looked back up at their new history teacher. She was nice. He really hoped she wasn't evil or trying to get into Derek's pants.

The awkward moment at lunch fortunately had been a rare one. They tried not to talk too much about the past year. Too much pain for all of them. It was bad enough that Kate was back and out there as some were-something or other, she-wolf, La Loba. He knew it scared the piss out of Derek, in fact it actually impressed Stiles that Derek hadn't retreated to some PTSD-induced catatonic state.

She had escaped when Scott and Kira teamed up with Braeden and had done their big rescue scene down in South America, bringing back a tortured but alive Derek Hale. Stiles didn't like to think about just how much Derek repressed and internalized things. Derek still couldn't sleep alone. He had couch surfed the first few weeks, spending nights at everyone's house, until the Sheriff had finally offered him the guest bedroom. Derek had politely refused because Deputy Parrish had made him a better offer, half of a pricey townhouse downtown.

At least now they had someplace to hang after school that didn't involve parents. Parent involvement had the honor of being something everyone could agree on. With Chris and Isaac back in France again, having only come home for the holidays a few times, the role of Pack Parents had fallen on Kira's parents, Scott's Mom, and the Sheriff. Nobody would ever look at Peter as a parental figure and Deaton was too vague and shifty to be trusted in Stiles' opinion. Something he and Scott agreed to disagree about.

Stiles turned his attention back to the class while he plotted revenge on his dad.

Unfortunately, his revenge didn't turn out exactly how he planned. Things never did.

"UGH, I cannot believe this! Of course they left me behind," Stiles muttered to himself, tromping from the Jeep to his front door, covered in some greenish black slime.

"You know, they left us both behind, not just you, idiot," Derek growled behind him.

Stiles rolled his eyes as he shoved his key in the lock. "You didn't have to follow me you know. I've lived here for over eighteen years now, I think I know the way home."

"It was closer then the townhouse, plus Parrish has a thing about slime," Derek retorted.

"Fine, whatever," Stiles replied, opening the door and letting them both inside. "Take off your shoes, try to contain the damage. Less for me to try to clean up before Dad gets home."

"Working a double again?"

"Yeah, even with Deputy Parrish and that other new dude, who, have you met him?" Stiles turned to look at Derek. "There's something off about him. Like does he smell different? Are we sure he's human? I don't know. There's something about him that I can't quite put my finger on, but it rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it's the way he's always looking at me like I need to be in a jail cell. Of course after…" his voice trailed off.

Derek reached over and squeezed the back of his neck. "Stiles, you don't belong in a jail cell, no matter what that new deputy might think. He doesn't know everything, just rumors. Your dad, Parrish, and Scott's dad did a thorough job of –"

"Covering everything up? Including the poor nurse I apparently stabbed to death at the hospital? You know he was a friend of Melissa's." Stiles shook his head. "Sorry, I know we all agreed not to talk about it too much, and that all of you go out of your way to reassure me that it wasn't my fault…"

The hand on his neck tightened and released. "That's because it wasn't. Come on, let's get cleaned up before your dad comes home."

Stiles led the way upstairs, both pleased that they weren't dripping black goo and displeased because it had hardened on them to a crispy shell. When they got to his room, their clothes had stiffened so much moving became difficult.

"Holy crap, what is this stuff?" Stiles complained, flexing his fingers and watching in dismay as black flakes fell off his hands and drifted to his carpet.

"Just be glad it isn't acid," Derek said flatly.

"Acid?" Stiles squeaked out. "Wait, is that a thing? Is that a thing we need to worry about? What has acid for blood? Besides the thing in Alien, wait, that wasn't real was it? Oh shit, that was real! Are you kidding me? There are aliens out there with acid for blood, for real?"

"No, idiot. Trolls. Some species of trolls have acid for blood. They aren't native to North America though, so I think you're safe. Alien was just a movie."

"Oh thank God," Stiles moaned, grimacing as he pulled his shirt over his head, sending a shower of black flakes all over him and the floor. "Great. Now I'm gonna have to vacuum before Dad comes home."

"I'll take care of it," Derek said softly, throwing his own shirt onto the pile of ruined clothing.

"That was my favorite shirt," Stiles complained as he deftly undid the button on his jeans. He was so focused on getting out of the disgusting clothes he barely registered the near nakedness of both of them until he stood in front of Derek in nothing but his Captain America boxers. He face flushed as his gaze slowly traveled up Derek's chiseled body from his toes, to his thighs, to his black boxer briefs, up his rock hard abs, and all the way to his face.

His face that had blue eyes staring right back at Stiles. It would have been intimidating, okay it was totally intimidating, but since the tips of Derek's ears were red, it wasn't as scary as it could have been.

"Um, s-sorry," Stiles stammered, dropping his gaze to the floor, to the wall, to anything but Derek's face. Or Derek's chest. Or his abs. Because, Derek's face, his everything, was in Stiles' room. Naked. Almost naked. Mostly naked. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. "So-sorry," he stammered again, waving his hands in what he thought was Derek's general direction.

Except Derek wasn't across the room anymore. Instead, he was up against Stiles, pressing him to the door, nose buried in his neck right behind his ear. Stiles let out a nervous laugh. "Um, Derek? Everything okay there buddy? Been a long time since you went preverbal."

Derek just huffed out a soft growl and his hands settled on Stiles' hips, holding him in place. "Yes," he said, taking in another deep breath.

Stiles didn't know what to do with his hands. They hung limp at his side, until he finally lifted them and awkwardly patted Derek's back. The heat he felt coming off Derek's skin sank into his palms, his chest, every part where they connected. "Um, that wasn't like a succubus or some sort of sex demon or beast was it?"

Another soft growl sounded by his ear followed by a quick nip of Derek's teeth. "No."

Stiles went quiet, hands on Derek's back, Derek's face still buried in his neck. This felt primal, instinctive, different from the mostly sweet but always tender kisses they had shared. This felt different. New. "Is this a werewolf thing? A territory thing? Because I didn't know – I mean, it's totally okay if it is. But I – are we? I mean, I'd be happy if, you know –"

"Stiles?"

"Yes?" Stiles chewed his bottom lip, waiting for Derek to continue.

"Shut up."

"Shutting up now." He mimed zipping his lips and returned his hand to Derek's shoulder, letting his head thump back against the door. This bared his neck and the sound of approval he got from Derek sent arousal zinging through Stiles.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide his growing erection, but Derek was having none of that. He just moved in closer, sliding a leg in between Stiles' and pressing upward with his thigh.

"Ngghhh," Stiles let out a half-stuttered groan and felt the heat spread from his chest, up his neck, to his face. "Oh my God, Derek, I'm so –"

"Don't. Don't say you're sorry unless it's because you don't want this to happen," Derek said, hands tightening on his hips, thigh continuing to press against Stiles' burgeoning erection firmly. "Please tell me you want this," he begged softly.

The vulnerable, desperate tone in Derek's voice made Stiles' heart do one of those flippy things in his chest. He knew Derek heard it so before Derek could even think about moving, Stiles blurted out. "Yes. Yes! I want this. So fucking much, please. I want this."

But Derek backed away anyway and Stiles pouted, reaching for him.

"Why?" Derek asked, forehead creased in a frown. "Why would you want this?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately? And it's not just that," he rushed on. "You were saving my life back when you still hated me. Back when you still wanted to rip my throat out - with your teeth. You were the first person that cared about me other then Scott or my dad. Even though I'm sure you would have denied it. You're the most selfless person I know, and yes, that's aggravating as hell sometimes because it borders on martyrdom and Jesus Fuck if you ever martyr yourself I’m gonna bring you back to life just so I can kill you myself."

He paused to take a breath before charging right on. "I've wanted you pretty much from the moment I saw you, but maybe, I don't know, when you believed me over Jennifer? I think that's when it really fell into place for me. You were dating her, hell for all I knew, you were in love with her. And she gave you this song and dance about Scott and I being kids and yet, we were there, right in front of you, telling you the truth, and you believed me. Me, a stupid kid, over your girlfriend. So yeah, that pretty much solidified the 'Derek is the most awesome person alive' award in my book. Well, outside of my dad, and maybe Scott, who's totally gotten better at this Alpha thing."

Stiles took another deep breath, raised a hand and ran it through his hair in frustration. "And you're never gonna believe me, are you?" He let his head fall back against the wall again, except instead of it hitting the hard surface, Derek's hand was right there to cushion the blow.

"I believe you," Derek said roughly.

Stiles dragged his gaze up to meet Derek's and the look of raw trust and desire he saw there floored him.

"You're the only one that stood by me from the beginning, even when you asked Scott if it was okay to kill me. I heard your heart, that was a lie."

The flush on Stiles face grew deeper. "Yeah, well, you were still an asshole back then."

"And now?" Derek asked tentatively.

"Not so much," Stiles whispered, reaching out and lacing his fingers with Derek's. "You haven't been for a while."

The tension eased out of Derek's body and he leaned into Stiles, burying his nose back into Stiles' neck. Without hesitating, Stiles brought his hands up and cradled Derek's head, holding him in place, wrapping his arms around Derek's back.

Gently, Derek pressed a kiss to the corded tendon in Stiles' neck, nipping at it with his teeth until Stiles dug blunt fingernails into Derek's skin.

"Derek," Stiles breathed out, turning his head just enough to return Derek's kiss, licking at his skin, nuzzling his nose into Derek's beard. Derek kept nipping and sucking as his neck and Stiles knew he was marking him, knew there would be no way to hide it when Derek finished. The thought made it even hotter; just the mere idea that Derek wanted to let the world know that Stiles belonged to him sent arousal pulsing through his veins, filling his erection where it lay hot and heavy against Derek's thigh.

"Want you," Stiles gasped out. "Always wanted you." He grabbed Derek's chin in his long fingers and finally crushed their mouths together. Tongue slicked against tongue, and Derek's hand wrapped around his throat, thumb moving over the angle of Stiles' jaw, caressing it.

"Stiles," Derek said, voice husky with desire and arousal.

"Less talking, more kissing," Stiles protested, finding Derek's mouth again, grinding against his thigh and feeling triumphant when Derek's hips undulated against him.

Derek broke the kiss and moved back to Stiles' neck, working on the mark he had already made, sucking at it, nibbling it, pulling a whine out of Stiles' throat at the sensation.

"Derek. Derek. Derek," Stiles chanted, his hands tightening their grip, fingernails digging in harder. "Fuck, I'm close, sorry," he apologized, really not wanting this to be over yet.

Derek smiled against the skin of his neck and Jesus, his thigh pushed up against him and Stiles was gone. Just gone. Like fireworks in the sky shooting off and his whole body exploding, gone. Seconds, or hell, even minutes later, Derek shuddered against him, a pleasure-filled cry spilling from his lips as he came in his own boxer briefs.

They panted against each other for several long moments, Stiles still trying to get his brain back online when he felt Derek stiffen. "What?" he whispered, heart skyrocketing again.

"Your dad," Derek muttered just as the door opened and the Sheriff walked into the house.

"Stiles!" he called from the foyer.

For a second, one tiny second, Stiles panicked, wanted to push Derek off him, throw his clothes at him and shove him out the door. But when Derek started to pull away, Stiles held him in place. "No." He met Derek's eyes. "No. I'm eighteen, he knows I like boys, and –" he huffed out a breath, feeling the blood rush back to his face. He dropped his gaze for a second, looking at their feet tangled up together on the floor. When he lifted them back up, he gave Derek a steely, determined look. "He knows I like you. A lot."

Derek was silent, but Stiles could see the hope in his eyes.

"Okay?"

Giving a jerky nod, Derek agreed quietly. "Okay."

"Um, Dad, Derek and I are in my room, we kinda got slimed by a –" he paused, "what the hell was that thing? Oh right." He raised his voice again. "We kinda got slimed by a troll. It's a bit messy in here, so um, give us a few minutes to clean up, okay?"

When there was no answer, Stiles looked at Derek, quirked an eyebrow up at him and jerked his head toward the hallway. Derek rolled his eyes and tilted his head for a brief moment. "He's going into the living room."

Stiles slumped against him in relief. "Thank God. Okay, um, I just did laundry yesterday so I know there's still some clean briefs in the dryer and there's a whole pile of stuff that belongs to you, might even find some of your own clean briefs in there from you know, other times shit like this has happened. Not that, I mean, this is the first, and believe me when I say I hope there are more times like this –"

"Stiles," Derek interrupted. "Clothes?"

"Right, come on." Stiles grabbed his hand and Derek followed him into the laundry room. Stiles yanked his boxers down and gave his dick and groin a cursory swipe before balling them up and dumping them into the washer. Derek followed suit and Stiles shoved the rest of their slimed clothes into the load and started it.

He pointed Derek to the pile of clothes that belonged to him and both of them dressed silently. Stiles could feel the awkwardness in the air and it made him nervous until Derek crowded him up against the washer and kissed him, just a quick swipe of his tongue into Stiles' mouth and a brief squeeze of his hand on Stiles' hip. "Stop thinking. It wasn't a one-time thing, not for me. I can't promise I won't be an asshole in the future though."

Stiles let out a nervous laugh and ran a shaking hand through his hair, which Derek snagged and twined their fingers together. "Good, because I'm sure I'll be an idiot or an asshole and –"

"You boys want something to eat? Chasing after trolls must be exhausting, especially with the celebratory sex afterward."

Stiles' eyes went comically wide and Derek snickered.

"Dad!" Stiles protested, dragging Derek downstairs to the kitchen, hands still linked together.

His dad stood in front of the fridge, arms crossed, and a satisfied smirk on his face. He looked them over, no doubt taking in the massive hickey on Stiles' neck and the impressive mussed up hair they both had, along with the sweats with no shoes or t-shirts. With a knowing grin and a quirk of his eyebrow, he turned and opened up the fridge. "Like I said, you boys hungry?"

Stiles and Derek looked at each other and although Stiles wished with all his might that -the Earth would open up and swallow him whole, it didn't happen. And when he saw the look of hope and the smile that slowly spread across Derek's face as his dad gave them each jobs to do to help fix the meal, he was glad it didn't. That look on Derek's face was worth all the mortifying moments of being caught in his boxers and a much too observant parent. The expression of true happiness and pure joy would always be worth it to Stiles and he vowed to do whatever it took to keep that look on Derek's face. Even if it meant sitting across the table from his dad who wouldn't shut up about how he'd walked in on them and won the betting pool.

The betting pool, that apparently the entire pack including the parents were in on. Stiles dropped his head onto the table and Derek just rubbed his back, laughing good-naturedly along with his father.

"I'm never going to live this down," Stiles moaned.

"Nope," his dad replied smugly, grinning as he stuffed a spoonful of mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth.

"Salads for you tomorrow," Stiles grumbled.

The Sheriff just gave him a 'cat that got the cream' look and scooped up some more mashed potatoes and gravy. "Never underestimate the Sheriff."

Stiles groaned again, Derek laughed, and the Sheriff enjoyed his spoils.

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own these characters blah blah blah bunch of boring lawyery stuff. 
> 
> Just let the boys have fun, yo!


End file.
